


checkmate

by apocalypseplay, haileylikestowrite



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz (Two River Cast) RPF
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Character Death, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hurt No Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Mafia AU, Mafia Leader!SQUIP, Mafia leader!Michael, Mentions of sex trafficking, No Fluff, Not Happy, Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sorry Not Sorry, Stockholm Syndrome, Toxic Relationship, Yikes!, christine needs a hug, jeremy is literally a sex slave ngl, michael's not good in this au, neither is the squip but what else is new, not at all like the cannon, prepare yourself, the squip's name is Stephen Wright, too many chess metaphors, uh oh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-10-27 07:52:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17762762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apocalypseplay/pseuds/apocalypseplay, https://archiveofourown.org/users/haileylikestowrite/pseuds/haileylikestowrite
Summary: Jeremy never liked chess.





	1. Prologue

Jeremy never liked chess. 

The strategies, the thought process; he just didn’t seem to get it. He didn’t understand how every move, from the first one-to-two space move of a pawn, or the one-up-two-over from the knight to the final placement of the rook was all planned out to achieve ‘checkmate’. How you were supposed to know which pieces to sacrifice to win in the end. The rook, the bishop, or maybe even the queen. 

If you think about it, life is sort of like a chess game. Every situation, every decision is another move. Your pieces are your assets, your freedoms, your humanity. You sacrifice what you need to, usually keeping the assets you need most, but sometimes giving it all up for the endgame. But, there were some games, some lives, that take a turn for the worst early on. The ones that you know you can’t win.

Jeremy figured that he entered one of those games when he met Stephen. 

He was only fifteen at the time, and a sophomore in high school. Things had been… okay, for Jeremy, at least. While his mother had left three years prior, Jeremy was getting over her, and just moving on with his life, and learning to be happy again. Little did he know, that his efforts of happiness were in vain. 

Stephen was… twenty, when they met. Almost exactly five years older than him. They had met as Jeremy was walking home from school one day, which should’ve been the first warning sign. The second warning sign was Stephen’s last name. Wright. After hearing this, Jeremy had known who this man was.

Stephen Wright, leader of one of the biggest mafias in Chicago. He had immediately taken interest in the younger male, and eventually asked- or, pretty much demanded- him out. Jeremy, of course accepted, as he knew that if he didn’t, it would end in his death. 

In the beginning of their ‘relationship’, Jeremy was happy to say that it wasn’t nearly as bad as he thought it was going to be.Yeah, things weren’t _great,_ but at least he wasn’t dead yet. 

Then Jeremy made the mistake of telling Stephen he wanted to break up. His father didn’t know about them- of course he didn’t, Stephen was _twenty-_ and Jeremy wanted at least the chance of a normal life. Alas, his attempts only made life a living hell for him. In order for Jeremy to not be able to escape, or get away from him, Stephen killed his father.

He wasn’t dumb, though, and this certainly wasn’t his first kill. Making it seem like natural causes was child’s play, according to him. And because Jeremy’s mother wasn’t around anymore? He ended up having to stay with none other than Stephen Wright. The younger was terrified, of course, seeing that he was now aware of just how much his boyfriend was capable of. 

Over the next month or two, however, Jeremy felt as if he was no longer a _boyfriend_ and more of a _slave,_ if you will. He rarely talked to him, unless it was to yell, have sex, or hit him. That was pretty much... it. Stephen’s anger got worse and worse, taking more of it out on Jeremy once he realized the other boy wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. That’s when he started locking him in the cellar. 

At first, Jeremy figured he had just forgotten about him. Stephen had begun locking the boy in the cellar when he did something wrong, claiming he didn’t want to see him unless it was necessary. But when Jeremy was locked down there for days at a time with nothing? Jeremy figured that he was trying to kill him or something. Which, honestly wouldn’t have been that surprising. If sophomore Jeremy Heere knew he was going to basically be some bastard’s slave when he agreed to date him, he would’ve chosen death. 

Honestly, he wasn’t sure what he had been expecting. A loving, warm relationship? Absolutely not. But getting forgotten about in the basement certainly wasn’t it.

A few days later, Jeremy came to find that, no, wasn’t forgotten. It was simply a part of the punishment, he came to find. Stephen decided that he was _’not well behaved enough,’_ so he would stay down in the cellar until further notice. 

He came down, sometimes, and every time he did Jeremy’s eyes would light up, and he would pray that he would get taken out of this dark, dingy place. Seeing that he was literally chained to the wall, he wasn’t able to leave on his own. But when Stephen came down, he wanted the usual. Sex, or a punching bag. Jeremy had to use his body to provide both of this things, pretty much having no choice. 

As time went on, Jeremy found his initial hope fading. After the tenth time Stephen came down without the plans of letting him out, Jeremy knew this was where he was going to be staying for a long time. Until he was seventeen, to be exact. 

When Jeremy turned seventeen, he thought he would be a junior in high school, not a sex slave in some mafia leader’s basement. But here he was. At this point, death would’ve been better than this. Dying at fifteen instead of letting his father die and letting his humanity get stripped from him sounded better, honestly. If he was dead, he wouldn’t have to deal with this. On the off-chance that he would, somehow, get out of Stephen’s cellar, there’s no way he’d be able to be safe and normal again. 

One by one, Jeremy let Stephen take his pawns, his assets.

Every move, every decision was made from what would benefit him more.

And yet, at every possible outcome, Jeremy evaded checkmate. 

This is the endgame.


	2. Chapter One

**_Who are you after you win the game?_ **

 

Michael Mell had never been the good guy; no point in his life, even as an infant, was he _meant_ to be the good guy. Michael was born into a world that very few got to be a part of, but almost the entire population was aware of; he was born into one of the most _prestigious_ mafias in Chicago. Strange, the way the world worked sometimes, because who would Michael Mell be if he wasn’t a twenty-five-year-old mafia boss? Michael liked to believe that he would be a freshly graduated college student. Maybe he would have a few close friends or even a boyfriend he loved with his whole heart.

Love is such a weird emotion, isn’t it? Being in love meant allowing yourself to open fully to someone and to let them see who you are as a person, which Michael knew he would never be allowed to have. From the moment he could coherently interact with other human beings, he was taught that emotions were a sign of weakness. He watched as his father slapped his mother for her tears, for displaying weakness. “You can’t show weakness,” his father would yell as she sat on the floor, her cheek bleeding from where his ring scratched her cheek. It was moments like those that made it clear that Michael’s parents didn’t remotely love each other. The closest feeling to love that Michael had ever experienced was when his mother would rub his cheek, explaining to him that she knew he was strong and do something big someday.

“Mr.Mell,” Michael’s driver said, snapping the young adult from his thoughts, "We have made it to the Wright Company.” Michael nodded his head, getting out of the car and staring up at the large building. Michael and his team of men were going in through the back way, but he knew the front was covered in flashy lights. It was a casino, after all, that was used to direct Stephen Wright’s sex trafficking business. Something Michael had been wanting to take down for a while now but was unsure of how he execute the idea. Stephen Wright's desire to have a meeting with Michael Mell was either going to be a blessing or a curse.

When Michael made it to the top floor of the large building, he followed one of Stephen Wright’s butler into the meeting room. It was like every standard business room, a dull gray room with a desk and a few chairs. Behind the desk sat a smug looking Stephen Wright. Michael studied the man as he stood. Stephen was an attractive man; he had naturally blonde hair, dark green-hazel eyes, and a few freckles were spread on his face. Michael noticed that Stephen was probably 6’3, making him more likely to attract unsuspecting men and women. He didn’t like that.  
  
“Oh, Mister Michael Mell! I am _so_ glad you made it,” Stephen said, walking over to shake Michael’s hand before motioning for him to sit at the desk. When they were both sat, Stephen motioned for his butler to pour them both a glass of rum. Before Michael sipped the drink, he pulled a small stick from his coat pocket. He placed the stick in the cup for a few seconds, checking to make sure he wasn’t getting poisoned. When his counter gave him a displeased look, Michael shrugged. “You can never be so sure,” Michael said as he pulled the stick out, “It would benefit you for me to be dead, correct?”

Stephen laughed, sipping his own drink. “Possibly, but you benefit me more  _alive_ at the moment.” He placed the drink down with a clink. “There is someone else I want dead right now, and I believe you would be a great help in that scheme.” Michael was instantly intrigued by the proposal. Helping the enemy, something that Michael hadn’t thought of just yet. He thought for a moment, maybe gaining the trust of the Wright Gang would allow him to destroy it from the inside out. “Go on,” Michael said, ”Who is your target?”

“The Mcfarlin Gang,” Stephen began, “They have been a threat to my… business since my great great grandfather. I’ve made the decision that it is my personal duty to destroy them.” Michael thought about the McFarlin’s for a moment. Andrew McFarlin was another gang leader who spent most of his wealth contributing to the human trafficking epidemic in Chicago. Although the group was never a threat to Michael, he did want to cut them off as well. “I see, but how does this involve me?” Michael asked, his eyebrow raising.  
  
“I want your alliance, simple as that,” Stephen hummed, “And in return, you get control of 25% of the McFarlin Gang.” To put it easily, Michael didn’t _want_ control of any of the sex trafficking business. His goal was to eliminate as much as he could, not take part in it. However, it would be easier to kill off the 25% if he owned it. “What do I get right now?” Michael asked, ”I need proof of your alliance, proof that you aren't trying to deceive me.” Michael wouldn’t be surprised if Stephen was trying to fool him, it was mafia business after all. In this line of work, you can only trust your closest alliance as much your farthest enemy.

That made Stephen stop and think. Michael wasn’t sure if Stephen thought he would get this far into the deal. It was rare that the Mell Gang made any deals or alliances. Since the time the group was formed, only about seven deals in total had been made with them. One of the policies of the group was to never trust the outside the world, after all. “I have a… toy in the basement,” Stephen began, “A beautiful one, that is. I’m not sure what kind of stuff you are into, Mell, but this might be perfect for a man like you. Completely obedient, this one.” Michael felt sick as the other man’s words, but he wouldn’t show it.   
  
“Take me to him,” Michael said as he stood up. He followed Stephen to the elevator, thinking over the situation. Michael was well aware that this was a shitty deal, but he also knew it was dangerous to have any control of the Wright Gang so early into this scheme. The possibility of one of Stephen’s men spying on Michael was too high to risk. A shitty deal like this one was much safer.  
  
When they arrived in the basement, the first thing Michael noticed was the smell. It was putrid as best; the entire room was covered in the odor of sex. That made sense, the basement itself was a sex hall. There were tons of girls and boys that varied of age, all locked in their own little rooms. Some of them were being used at the moment, and it was sickening to Michael. “Jesus, Wright,” Michael hissed when the smell first hit him, “The last thing you could do is _bathe_ them.” Stephen shrugged at him. It was obvious that the gang leader had no desire to actually care for his toys. At the end of the hallway, there was a wooden door that had no window to look inside; Stephen took his keys out and unlocked it, motioning for Michael to go inside.  
  
When Michael stepped in, he saw a completely naked young boy with matted brown hair in the corner of the room, his arms tied together. The room smelled more like sex than the hallway. “His name is Jeremy Heere,” Stephen began to explain, “I found him when he was fifteen. He was pretty depressed, his mother leaving a few years prior to our first encounter. It was pretty easy to get him to stay with me, especially after his father died of… natural causes.” Michael knew that obviously meant that Stephen killed him.   
  
After a few minutes of looking at Jeremy, Michael bent down to get a closer inspection, taking Jeremy’s face in his hand. Michael inspected the boy, looking into the broken blue eyes of Jeremy Heere. “He’s pretty,” Michael admitted, “How old is he now?” Stephen chuckled and crossed his arms. “Does it matter much? He’s seventeen now, his birthday on January 25th.” Michael thought about the age before standing up. Jeremy was so young, yet so broken. He knew that he could use that pain inside Jeremy for something a bit different than a sex toy. Michael decided that Jeremy his Mafia Queen, the candy on his arm at a party. Michael Mell, one of the most powerful mafia bosses in the entire state, had made his decision.

“Stephen Wright,” Michael said as he turned to his counter, "You have yourself a deal.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everything we put in has a purpose ;) -hailey


	3. chapter 2

Ever since she was young, Christine Canigula knew she would be nothing but a pawn in someone else’s game.

It all started when her mother told her to go to the store and pick up some groceries for her. 

She had only been fifteen at the time, almost sixteen. Theatre was a passion for the young girl, her most recent role being Gertrude in Seussical. She was friendly, approachable, not having any close friends, but always surrounded by people. Her drama teacher, Mr. Reyes, would tell her that she was going to go far in life. That she had a _future._ It was a shame that it was all taken from her when Cassius Wright- Stephen Wright’s father- abducted her on her way home from the grocery store. 

He had pulled her into the alleyway, causing her to drop the bags filled with bread and milk, her scream cut short by the knife being pressed to her neck. 

_”One wrong move, and you’re dead.”_

Christine Canigula was dragged to one of those stereotypical white vans, which she _would’ve_ made a remark about, if her life wasn’t at stake. The van had tinted windows, as all white vans did.

It was at this exact moment, that Christine stopped caring for her life.

It was death, or some sort of torture that would quite possibly kill her or scar her for life. And honestly? Death sounded great. 

“Seriously, a white van? Couldn’t you have been _any_ more creative?” She spat, eyebrows furrowed as her dark eyes stared up at the man. 

The remark had, of course, resulted in a slap, and gun pointed to her head. But she was expecting this- the slap, the gun. She knew they couldn’t kill her, because they needed her for.. Something. Money, perhaps. 

She may have been a pawn, but she was the queen. 

She was the one piece that people needed. The one everyone sought to keep. Without her, your chances of success were slim. Of course, it was still possible, but she was a valuable piece.

Maybe that’s why Anthony Mell wanted to keep her. 

Maybe that’s why Anthony Mell took her, cursing her with the heinous life she lived now. 

God, she hated him almost as much as she hated Cassius. If Anthony Mell hadn’t ‘saved’ her, and forced her to stay with his mafia, maybe she would be an actress. Maybe she would be the love interest on some broadway musical. Maybe, just maybe, she would be leading a happy, carefree life, full of wonders and things other than violence, money or sex. She was sure her parents were out there somewhere, wondering what happened to their daughter. Wondering why someone would take her, and keep her for almost a year now.  
Anthony Mell saw something in her. He saw a fire, a passion- something that convinced him to make her into something other than a sex slave. And that leads her to where she was now. Michael Mell was a lot more tolerable than Anthony had been, but that didn’t mean he was a good person. Quite the opposite, if she was being honest. 

But, on the bright side, she was an elite. Not royalty, no, but she was high up there. Michael seemed to at least like her a bit, as he was usually either around her or Jake Dillinger, his second in command. 

That was how she was the first to find out about Jeremy Heere. 

From the moment she saw him, there was something she instantly realized. He wasn’t like them. He didn’t belong here. She saw herself in him, and once Michael told her a bit about the boy, she only related more and more to him.

They had both been dragged into this mess at around fifteen, and been ‘saved’ by a Mell not too long after. Maybe, just maybe, she could get him out. It was wishful thinking, but she wanted to save him. And not like how Michael was, because that wasn’t saving. It was just giving him a less violent torture. She wanted to get him out of this altogether. This kid was _seventeen,_ for Christ’s sake. He shouldn’t be in this at that age, or in general. 

If anything, it was sickening. It made her sick to know that Michael would let this boy be another pawn, another piece in his game. Sure, Michael wouldn’t be as terrible as Stephen, but he was still going to be terrible to Jeremy. He didn’t deserve that.  
The first words she said to the boy were, “I’m sorry.” It seemed appropriate, seeing that he’s probably never been told that before, or at least since he was dragged into this. 

Jeremy just watched her for a moment, unsure of what to really say. Christine smiled gently, helping him strip of his clothes and step into the bath she had gotten ready for him. 

“Today’s your day of rest,” Christine started. “We’ll get you fed and cleaned up, and you can spend the rest of the day sleeping, if you wanted. I’ve prepared a room for you; Michael wanted you to stay with him, but I told him to fuck off.” She gave a small giggle, shrugging. “I’m Christine, by the way. Christine Canigula. I’m here if you ever need anything, okay?”

Jeremy nodded slightly, looking to be a bit confused. He wasn’t… used to this much kindness anymore. “Thank you.” He murmured, his voice soft, hesitant. As if he wasn’t sure if he was _allowed_ to speak. It broke her heart. 

“Y’know..” She spoke up again, after a moment. “Y’know, it’s sick that Michael is just.. Letting you become another one of his pawns.” Christine began to gently wash Jeremy’s matted down hair, continuing to speak. “He’s not.. Good. I wish I could say he was, but he’s too corrupted, I suppose, to be ‘good’.” 

She knew that Jeremy wasn’t expecting anything good, seeing that he probably knew nothing about the whole ordeal, and what he was traded for. If anything, this kid was probably expecting to be treated even worse. Hence why he was so confused, currently. She knew, at that point, that she was going to look out for Jeremy. Help him last as long as possible, and get as far as he could. If he couldn’t make it anywhere in the real world, at least he might be able to make it somewhere in this knock-off hell. 

Soon, once Jeremy was all cleaned up, Christine helped him out of the bath, furrowing her eyebrows in concern at how.. thin he was. Jesus, did they not feed him? The more she thought about it, though, the less likely it seemed that they fed him at all, despite the times when he was nearly dead. They didn’t even _bathe_ him. Feeding him was probably not a priority, either. 

The clothing he was to be put into was casual, just a shirt and jeans, and something he apparently hadn’t worn in awhile. Jeremy’s hesitance was obvious, but he didn’t actually say anything, and instead just took the clothes. She left the room, letting him change, before beginning to lead him to where he would be staying. 

The room was sort of like a hotel room. The walls were an off-white, with a twin-sized bed and a television. Nobody had ever stayed in this room before, and that was obvious from how it looked genuinely like a hotel room when you first walked in. 

Her eyes flickered up to the taller boy, a small smile on her lips. “This is where you’ll be staying. Food will arrive shortly, alright?”

Jeremy looked.. Conflicted. Unsure. Of what, she wasn’t sure, but she decided to not press him for any answers. He was already a bit shaken from… well, the past two years, which she completely understood. 

“I must go talk to Michael. I’ll be back tomorrow though, alright? Just.. make sure you get some rest. You have training tomorrow.” Christine’s smile brightened as their eyes met, watching Jeremy nod before she was off to Michael’s office. 

There was more than a few things she wanted to say to that man, honestly. And she was no longer afraid of the Mell’s. The worst they could do was kill her, which she certainly wouldn’t mind. 

Christine burst through the doors to the office, a determined, fiery look in her eyes. “Michael Aaron Mell, what the _hell_ were you thinking?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love christine with all of my heart

**Author's Note:**

> i am,,, so sorry for this,,,


End file.
